


Go-To

by gigantic



Series: Pressure Down Low [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Los Angeles Kings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An early offseason allows for more time to focus on transitions. Martin would be lying if he said they didn’t feel different, more than a year into a relationship that keeps making him crave more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go-To

**Author's Note:**

> **Mild Warning** : This story touches on Jarret Stoll's arrest for drug possession in a pretty lighthearted way. It also references Toffoli and Joner experimenting with drugs in the past, but no drug use is described within the story. 
> 
> Thanks to M, V, and CZ for their help with this! Any remaining errors are my mistake.

Tyler’s reserved after the game, despite the win. He even scored the tying goal, helping them work toward one last victory, but he’s still quieter than usual. Martin hears Brownie ask him something about it, and Tyler shrugs. 

Martin doesn’t press. Even Tyler's allowed a faraway mood when they’re playing the last game of their season this early. He doesn’t say much on their drive back to Hermosa either, and Martin lets it lie until they’re at dinner with Pears, Shoresy, and Andy. 

Andy and Pears both go to the bathroom after ordering drinks. With fewer ears around, Martin tips closer to Tyler to ask, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. He looks between Martin and Shoresy, confused. “I’m alright. Why? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He nudges Tyler’s shoulder. “It seems like something’s been on your mind all day.”

“Oh. I don’t know. It’s been a weird day, kind of,” Tyler says and sighs. “Being done now is strange.”

Martin understands that. He offers Tyler a quirk of his mouth, not quite a sympathetic smile, but Tyler rolls his eyes and mirrors the soft expression. He follows it up by setting his hand on Martin’s thigh, palm up.

When Martin slides his fingers between the spaces, intertwining their hands, Tyler exhales again. 

“What are you thinking about ordering?” Martin asks him.

“Something with a lot of cheese."

He perks up when Andy and Pears come back to the table giggling about something they've just seen. The beer he has with his alfredo gets him to start talking more, too, holding on to Martin’s hand throughout the meal.

By the time they leave, he’s drifted off again. They drop Andy at home first, and Martin looks over to the passenger seat. Tyler’s looking at the window when Martin asks, “Do you want to come to our place?” 

For the last three months, the answer has almost always been yes. The only time Tyler really bothers going to Marty’s anymore is when he’s out of clothes to wear and needs to camp out to do his laundry, but Martin’s not really sure what the deal might be tonight.

Tyler’s head lolls to the side, bringing his eyes in Martin’s direction. He blinks sleepily. “Mhm.”

“Okay,” Martin says. 

His stomach feels like it unwinds, like Martin had been weirdly nervous about that without fully realizing. Before he can pick at that sensation much, Pears speaks from the back seat, saying, “I didn’t even play, but the game being in the afternoon makes me feel like it’s so much later.”

“Fucked me right up,” Tyler agrees, and they keep talking quietly until Martin’s got them parked in front of their own house.

For as off as he’s seemed throughout the afternoon and evening, Tyler still grabs for Martin when they finally go to bed. Martin leaves barely an inch of space between them when he lies down, and Tyler tugs at him until he’s half-covered in Martin’s limbs. 

“Alright, alright,” Martin says. “I’m moving.”

“Right where I want you,” Tyler says, going for ominous as he lifts and lowers his eyebrows. Martin laughs and drops his head in to kiss him. 

;;

Honestly, Martin hasn’t let himself think too much about the end of the season. He already knows too much that could make him melancholy, so it’s really convenient when Lewie calls the next day and says a bunch of them are going to Las Vegas.

“End of the season party,” he says. Steve Aoki’s playing in town again. Wet Republic was amazing last summer. Martin’s down. 

“What day? Friday?”

“Thursday, maybe. We’re still figuring a few things out. It kind of depends on Reggie, since it’ll be his last big one with us.”

Pears is going back home pretty quickly. He hasn’t seen his girlfriend in forever since she’s still finishing her semester, and he’s had enough time hanging around LA alone to feel restless. 

“Boooooo,” Tyler calls from their couch. 

“Don’t disrespect me in my house!” Pears calls back.

Tyler gets on his knees on the couch, leaning against the back, and throws a balled-up napkin at Pears across the room.

Pears sticks his tongue out at Tyler and snatches the napkin from the floor. Tyler keeps on jeering until Martin takes matters into his own hands, walking to Tyler and tilting his chin up. His mouth parts for Martin immediately.

When they pull apart, Tyler looks past Martin and then eyes him, accusatory. “You did that so he could slip away.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Martin sees that, yeah, Pears has gone upstairs now. Martin says, “What would I do if he banned you?”

“Sneak me in through your bedroom window,” Tyler says. 

Martin considers it, but, “That sounds like a lot of effort for you.”

Tyler makes a face, as if taking a moment to imagine it. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“We’d never see each other again.” 

Tyler hums, frowning. It deepens the longer he’s paused, the expression funny on him. Martin’s even more amused as he starts to try to picture it, Pears on watch and Tyler still trying to sneak in. Tyler’s more likely to demand Martin come outside than do any real work outside of what he needs to do to play. Work hard, relax harder is more Tyler’s speed, Martin’s learned over the last few years. 

Getting lost in thought briefly means he’s caught off guard when Tyler starts to slip away, standing. 

“Hey,” Martin says, his hand on Tyler’s arm sliding down until he holds his wrist. Tyler steps around the couch awkwardly. “Where are you going?”

He looks a little like yesterday suddenly, Martin notices. His expression’s flatter. Martin pulls him in and wraps Tyler’s arms around his waist. When Tyler clasps his hands behind Martin’s back, giving in to the hug, Martin rests his arms on Tyler’s shoulders and kisses his forehead. 

“Let’s go do something,” Tyler says. 

They have been inside all day so far. 

“Beach? Surf?” Martin suggests.

“ _Yes_.”

The waves aren’t great, but neither of them are very good on a board anyway. The conditions are nice enough that they can spend a couple hours messing around in the water together. Tyler’s skin starts to pink even though they’ve both put on sunscreen, and he knocks Martin off his board for saying he’ll look a cherry tomato later. 

Pears has gone out by the time they get back, so they don’t even bother with pretending they’re going to do anything other than head right to the shower together to rinse away the salt and sand. Tyler’s skin looks mostly fine. He’s lucky.

“Do you think anybody’s ever gotten sunburn on their dick?” he asks, wiping his eyes after he rinses soap from his hair. 

“Absolutely.” 

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” Tyler says and shivers. “Knock me out cold for however long it takes to heal. I couldn’t take it.”

“Then make sure you don’t tan completely naked and fall asleep in Vegas.” Martin rubs his hand across Tyler’s shoulder to swipe at soap suds clinging to his skin. 

Tyler crowds Martin against the shower wall, sort of wiggling against him. “I’ll only get naked for you, how about that?” he asks, goofy as hell. 

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” Martin says, except he can feel Tyler’s dick against him now, and he actually just wants to feel him up.

He flips things around, getting Tyler against the tile. He kisses him until Tyler moans in his mouth, hands on Martin’s ass like he can’t get enough. 

Martin says, “Maybe we won’t leave the hotel room there. Need to get in all I can before we go to separate coasts, right?”

Tyler tilts his head, letting Martin get at his neck for a moment when he ducks in again and then says, “I’m cold, come on.” 

He slips out of the shower and grabs a towel. Martin thought they were getting into something there, but fine. They towel dry and find themselves in Martin’s room, sitting on the bed and watching TV. Tyler burritos himself in blankets even though it’s not cold and dozes off while Martin messes around on his laptop. 

Pears coming home is what makes Martin look at the time. Martin hears him moving around upstairs and looks towards his doorway when the footsteps start drawing closer. Pears appears with a knock to Martin's door jamb and says, “Hey, I’m starving. You guys want to order pizza?”

Martin taps Tyler’s hip through the comforter. “Ty, you hungry? Pears is getting pizzas.”

It takes a few more nudges, but Tyler eventually rouses. Martin explains again, and Tyler says, “Yes, please,” voice still sleep-thick. 

“Cool. I’ll call,” Pears says. “I’ll order a couple different ones.”

When he disappears, Martin shuts his laptop and slides down on the bed, facing Tyler. Though his eyes are closed, Martin can tell he hasn’t nodded off again yet. His breathing doesn’t have the right steady rhythm for unconsciousness. 

Martin drags his fingers over Tyler’s hair just above his ear. Tyler lets him without giving up the ruse at first. Martin’s hands play across his hair and his cheekbone, dragging his thumb along Tyler’s chin. 

Persistence wins out after a couple minutes. Tyler’s eyes open really slowly. He doesn’t move much at all, so Martin just keeps at what’s doing, watching Tyler watch him.

Martin loses the standoff for who speaks first. He says, "You have to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t do anything if you don’t.”

“Nothing.”

That’s always his first answer, some denial or deflection. Usually followed by --

“It’s stupid,” Tyler adds. 

“Tell me anyway.”

Tyler doesn’t like being bothered by things. He hates admitting that anything can bother him. It’s probably been the same the entire time that Martin’s known him, but he’s picked up on it more since they started this. Tyler being sent back to Manchester and going radio silent last year was a crash course in how he’s more inclined to shut down until he can work through something on his own. 

Now he huffs, as if voicing what's on his mind is a burden for him. He says, “I thought we’d make it. We messed up against Vancouver and Edmonton, but I still thought it could happen, and we would’ve gotten at least a couple more weeks. Maybe longer.”

"It blows, yeah," Martin says, thinking about the game against the Oilers again. He tries not to dwell on goals against, on individual games. It's too easy to go crazy that way, but now that the game's been mentioned, it's just as hard not to run through plays. "I'm sorry."

"I don't mean that," Tyler says, and then rolls his eyes. "We all fucked up, but now -- already people are asking me about going back to Toronto, and you're going home. It's stupid. I know it's naive to assume every year will be like last year, but even down three games you got to be around for my birthday, so --"

Oh. Ohhhhh.

"Come to Vancouver," Martin says, speaking up before he really means. He's not trying to cut Tyler off, but if Tyler's problem has to do with proximity, Martin has ideas for that. "Or we could stay here for a little while after Las Vegas. Whatever."

"You don't have to baby me. I'm just being weird."

"Tyler." Martin rests his fingers on Tyler's cheek. "Whatever you want. I'd miss you, too, loser."

Tyler groans, saying, "I sound so whiny."

"That’s your waking up voice," Martin teases, and Tyler actually makes the effort to work his arm free of the covers and push Martin away. 

He doesn't make Martin work too hard to recover. There's no resistance when Martin comes in again. He straddles Tyler, pinning the blankets against his body and leaning in. Tyler's the most pliable when he's freshly woken from a night's sleep or a nap, a glutton for rising slowly. Martin crowds him the way he likes, kissing Tyler and pulling back just enough to encourage Tyler to chase the feeling, lifting his head to keep their mouths close.

"I almost thought you weren't gonna stay here last night."

Tyler furrows his brow. "Why?"

Shrugging, Martin says, "I was wrong, so it doesn't matter, but see? I want as much as I can get, too."

After partying through the end of June, they both went home and hung out with friends, keeping touch over the phone and Skype, but Tyler’s right. The summer was shorter, so they really only got in a few weeks of celebrating with friends and family and then had to go right back to training. There wasn’t as much time to think, but Martin would be lying if he said they didn’t feel different, more than a year into a relationship that keeps making him crave more rather than ever settling. 

“We’re allowed to be upset about everything,” Martin says.

Tyler scoffs. “I feel like an asshole when I complain.”

“You’re really not that bad.” Martin kisses his face, one cheek after the other. “Is that all? Anything else on your mind?”

“That’s it.” Tyler sighs. “Things suck, but I’ll get over it.”

“And in the meantime -- pizza.”

That inspires the beginnings of a smile. “Mmm, best relationship I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh, really?” Marty starts to crawl away. “So I should probably quit while I’m--”

Tyler lunges after him, saying, “No, I’m comfortable. Come back. You’re the best.”

Martin re-situates, letting his Tyler take his weight. Tyler groans, contented, and Martin keeps him hemmed in, peppering him with light kisses until Pears announces that the food has arrived.

;;

On Monday, they both get phones calls from their agents, confirming that they’ve been invited to the World Championships. He had no doubt that they’d extend the opportunity to Tyler, and he’d hoped the IIHF would give him a look, but it’s still somehow thrilling that they do. Vancouver fantasies may have to wait. 

“I want to go,” Martin says.

Tyler nods. “So do I. You know Dean and Rob would probably like that we went.”

“Good work ethic.” Martin smiles as he adds, “And we can go together.”

Tyler’s grin matches his own. “Oh, yeah, that.” 

So, instead of sorting out Canada plans after Vegas, they agree to linger in Los Angeles until they need to fly to the Czech Republic. The bounce in Tyler’s step comes back right away. He’s honestly whistling when he gathers his stuff to make a trip back to Marty’s for fresh clothes and to check on his puppy before heading in for exit day.

“They don’t mind looking after him for a couple days, but that’s the limit.” 

“I’d hit my threshold for handling someone else’s dog shit quickly, too,” Martin says. 

“Can I bring him back with me?”

“Yeah, always.” 

“Awesome.” He puts his ballcap on and then pulls Martin close to tuck a quick kiss against his mouth. “See you later.” 

“You’re sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“Nah, it’s good. I want the walk.” 

Martin takes a few more kisses, enjoying the way Tyler starts to chuckle into them as he realizes Martin’s reluctant to let go. Finally, finally, he lets Tyler step back and turn to leave the room. Martin trails him as he walks downstairs, says goodbye again, and then really does take off. 

Pears is hanging in the living room watching TV, and Martin says, “Alright, I’m gonna run to get some stuff for breakfast, I think, and then head over to TSC. You want to ride with me or take your own car?”

“Um. I’ll just go with you,” Pears says and reaches for the TV remote. “I thought Tyler left like half an hour ago.”

“We got caught up,” Martin says and can’t help being smug even though they didn’t actually even do anything dirty this time. It’s still funny to imply. 

“Jesus,” Pears says. “What time is it?” 

Martin takes his phone out of his pocket. “Almost 10.” 

Since he’s got his cell in hand, he takes a moment to open his texts and type out a quick, “Love you.” Sends it. 

“Alright, let me put my shoes on,” Pears says. 

Martin sits on the arm of the couch and waits. In the meantime, Tyler replies to his text with a row of heart emojis. 

Pears laughs. “He’s been gone two minutes and you’re already grinning at your phone.” 

He shakes his head as he makes his way to his room, but Martin doesn't feel an ounce of shame.

;;

Being out of the playoffs _does_ suck. As it starts to sink in, Martin hates it, feels antsy even with the knowledge that he still has hockey to look forward to in May. Tyler bringing Bruno back is a nice evening distraction. Martin plays with the puppy until he’s exhausted and flops out on the floor. Bruno climbs right up on his chest. 

Going to the Dodgers game the next night helps, too. It’s also the closest he and Tyler have gotten to having time to go out on a date in a while. They’re sharing the box with a few people, but no one bothers them during a few innings where they just sit and watch together, liking the company.

Martin actually grew up more of a Mariners fan, but the Dodgers have been so nice to the team that he’s simply happy the game between them is competitive. Tyler’s got enough patience to sit still for a while, and then ends up spending more time trying to play with Marnie the Dog, holding her up and telling Martin to kiss her. 

Nothing can replace the playoffs, but watching Tyler lavish affection on the dog in his lap is a real addictive consolation. 

Tyler’s still talking about her when they leave Chavez Ravine. It also inspires him to start spitballing out loud about how and when to get things back to Toronto -- Bruno, namely.

“I can’t take him with us to Worlds, obviously. My dad might be able to fly down, but I’m not sure.”

Martin says, “My brother and sister are definitely coming here to help me. They might be okay with taking Bruno with them, if you do want to come hang out with me there after we finish overseas.”

“Really?” Tyler asks. “I don’t know if I’d have to --”

“Even if you want to go to see your parents and stuff first and then come later,” Martin says. “Either way. We can figure it out if, you know. If you want.” 

Just voicing more of the idea makes Martin's brain throw together fantasy visuals. Taking Bruno on walks so that Tyler can keep waking up slow, the two of them trying to cook at least sometimes so that they aren’t always eating takeout -- it’s too easy to picture. The house Martin bought isn't extravagant, but it’s still bigger than he needs, because his parents recommended leaving room for growth.

“Live hopefully,” his mom had said in that dreamy, warm way she got when talking about family. 

Martin had tried not to make his final decision to sign all the paperwork based on whether Tyler would like the place. He’d started thinking about buying hometown property when he signed a new deal with LA, before he and Tyler collided, but Tyler had cheered him on down the stretch. So, Martin didn’t buy it for Tyler, but he’s trying his best to take his mom’s advice. They haven’t had any time to actually visit it while on road trips to play the Canucks, but now they have an extra couple months, and Martin can picture Tyler filling out the extra space so fucking clearly.

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I do want to visit. Okay, ask them. Then I can take Bruno back whenever I fly out again.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Perfect.” Tyler rolls the “r” on the word, and shifts as far over in his seat as he can to kiss Martin’s cheek. “You think of everything.” 

;;

Tyler makes plans with Carts and Megan the next day. Martin does some grocery shopping, and then goes to commandeer Muzz’s time. They play videos games but eventually go to one of the bars nearby and have beers while baseball plays on TV. 

“I’m kind of fucking bored today,” Muzz says, sitting with his back against a wall and his legs spread across his side of the booth.

“Good thing Vegas starts tomorrow morning, then.”

“I’m tempted to switch my plane ticket and skip out there tonight. No reason to wait for you dorks.” 

Martin says, “Right, get a head start on losing a bunch of money.” 

“Fuck that. You know I won six thousand dollars last time.” Muzz taps his glass idly, the sound clear and light. “I’ve got the touch.” 

“Did you make a reservation already?”

“Yeah, but I can switch it. It’s not like it’s hard,” Muzz says. “Why, do you not have yours yet?”

Martin bought the plane tickets for him and Tyler, which seemed to be the most important part. “Maybe we’ll just do it when we get there.”

“It sounds like little lazy-ass is rubbing off on you more and more every day.”

“No, he’s not,” Martin says. Muzz laughs at him, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, even if Martin has likely increased the amount of napping he does this past year. Naps are a genius thing to prioritize, though. 

“Where is he anyway?”

“Other things going on.”

“Ahhh, you finally needed a break from each other.” Muzz wags his finger like an old man having his “eureka!” moment. 

“Not really.” Martin snorts. “Did I say already that he’s coming back to Vancouver with me? After we leave Worlds.” 

Muzz’s practically bug out of his head. “Really? He’s finally moving in with you?”

“No. What the hell? You took a huge leap.” Martin flicks a french fry across the table at him. 

“Fuck you. What you said could have a lot of meanings.”

“And what do you mean ‘finally’?” Martin sends another fry his way, but Muzz catches that and eats it. 

“Just slide your food this way if you don’t want it,” Muzz says, making grabby hands. “And unlike some people here at this moment, I wasn’t a babbling drunk after your birthday dinner. Sadly for you, I can remember most of that conversation.”

The team lost in a shootout on his birthday, Pears had broken his leg, and Tyler was on day one of being officially diagnosed with mono, so there might’ve been some celebration and frustration mixed together. Martin was allowed to have more than usual. He mostly remembered Tyler apologizing for not being able to have birthday sex with him, and then petting his hair throughout the next day while they crowded in Pears’ bed and watched random Discovery Channel shows together. Three ailing stooges: hungover, sick, and broken. 

Martin doesn’t think he remembers what Muzz is talking about at all. “What did I say?”

“I can’t quote it back to you verbatim, but you seemed convinced he’d say no if you asked,” Muzz says, reaching for Martin’s food. “That’s why I was surprised.” 

“Well, I didn’t ask that, and he’s not moving in with me. He’s coming to visit,” Martin says, smiling. 

Something about that cracks Muzz up. “You’re both so annoying.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Don’t make me a third wheel in Prague.” 

“Stop eating my goddamn fries,” Martin says, smacking at Muzz’s wrist, and then asks him how his girlfriend’s doing lately to redirect the spotlight. 

Yes, Martin has thought about Tyler moving in with him. He especially thought about it when Tyler decided living in his own place was lonely and a waste, and then moved out of it. Him relocating to Martinez’s house clipped any stray thoughts Martin may have had really quickly. They hadn’t even been together -- not officially -- for a full year yet, so it made sense, but the notion streaked through Martin’s head once or twice. Maybe longer if it was apparently still on his mind on his birthday.

When he gets back home, he finds Tyler in Pears’ room, both of them lying on his bed, talking. 

Martin knocks on the doorframe. “Is this where the party is?”

Pears is already on his back, but Tyler has to roll over to see him. There’s a smile plastered across his face. He says, “I was just thinking about you.”

“He was trying to ask you to bring him a milkshake using telepathy,” Pears clarifies.

“Yeah, did it work?” Tyler asks.

He looks hopeful, but Martin holds out his empty hands. “Sorry.”

“Ugh,” is all Tyler says and throws his arm across his face as he falls back.

“You could’ve texted me,” Martin says. “Or, I don’t mind going out again if you want to ride with.” 

Pears kicks at Tyler gently, saying, “Yes. See? Get out of my bed.” 

“I’m trying to love you,” Tyler says, turning to grab onto whatever part of Pears he can reach. “Love nurses people back to health faster!” 

He tortures Pears by trying to hug him into submission or something, Martin’s not sure. They do this sometimes, and he just waits for it to finish. Tyler’s hair is a mess when he finally rolls off of the bed and heads into Pears’ closet.

“Pears, I’m wearing some of your shoes! I didn’t bring flip-flops,” Tyler says. 

“Don’t,” Pears says. 

Reappearing, Tyler says, “Too late. They’re on my feet,” and makes his way to Martin. “Want us to bring you anything?” 

Pears thinks about it and shakes his head. Tyler ducks under Martin’s arm as they leave the room. He looks up and says, “Hi, Martin.” 

“Hi, Tyler. How was your day?”

“Good,” Tyler says and kisses Martin’s chin. “Better now.” 

The sun’s almost down, so the temperature is already dropping. Tyler says he didn’t wear a jacket over earlier and takes one of Martin’s hoodies before they go.

He looks so comfortable as they leave. He’s generally been prone to mooching off him and Pears for household things when he’s over, but looking at him with his afternoon with Muzz in mind makes the moment stand out. Martin still doesn’t remember whatever he spilled to Muzz back in January, but he does remember how irrationally doable the idea seemed for the few days between Tyler throwing some of his stuff in storage and deciding to take Marty’s spare room.

He’d spent all three nights at Martin’s. Waking up with Tyler on those days shouldn’t have been different, but Martin remembers how simple it seemed like it might be to suggest that he just… not leave.

“Want me to drive?” Tyler asks as they close the front door. 

Martin tosses him the keys. “Go for it, buddy.” 

The suggestion never quite made it out, but it wasn’t like he’d ever asked Pears if he was cool with it anyway. Whatever. 

;;

Tyler, miraculously, wakes up a few minutes before the alarm clock. Martin finds this out because _he_ wakes up with his dick in Tyler’s mouth. It’s an amazing way to greet the day, and Martin moans once before he notices the bedroom door is cracked and has to spend an entire morning blowjob struggling to stay quiet. 

He can tell Tyler thinks it’s funny. There’s that mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls off until he’s just sucking the head. Martin fists the comforter as tightly as he can. When his orgasm hits, he grabs a pillow and smothers his face. 

Tyler does laugh at him after he pulls off, low closed-mouth giggles because he’s got a jawful of come. He slips away, Martin tucking his cock back in his underwear, and when he comes back, Tyler sitting astride Martin’s hips while he’s brushing his teeth. 

“You don’t want me to get you?” Martin asks, cupping Tyler’s cock through his underwear. Tyler makes one small “mm” noise, rolling his hips into it and then shakes his head. 

“No time,” he says around his toothbrush. “Got a flight.” 

“I’m gonna fuck you when we get to Vegas.”

Tyler smiles and nods.

Traffic around LAX is strangely more congested than usual. They cut it close on timing, running from security to the gate. Martin hates rushing if he can help it, and he hasn’t even had anything to eat yet. 

“You’re cranky,” Tyler says when Martin complains about the kid already pushing his feet into the back of Martin’s seat. He thought first class seemed unnecessary for an hour-long flight, but now he’s sort of wishing they’d spent the money anyway.

“It’s because I’m starving, sorry.”

Tyler buys a snack and asks for a coffee. He hands both to Martin and says, “You’re not you when you’re hungry,” laughing at his own impression of the Snickers commercials.

“Yup, you nailed it,” Martin says.

Tyler pretends to dust off his shoulder. “I’ve got the gift of timing, what can I say?”

The snack and caffeine do help. Martin feels less resentful of everything about this morning that isn’t Tyler as the minutes tick by. It probably also helps that Tyler stays true to himself, recognizes an opportunity to sleep more, and leans on Martin’s shoulder to nod off. His hair still smells shower fresh. Martin leans his head against the top of Tyler’s and tries to take his lead, chilling out. 

They pay for a room with two beds at the MGM.

“One for sleeping, one for sex,” Tyler says. 

Really, they both toss their bags onto one bed and then collapse on the other mattress. Tyler pulls Martin on top of him, his kiss wet and thorough. Martin moans as he pleases now, basking in not having to worry about a roommate or anything else for the moment. Tyler plants his feet on the mattress and pushes his hips up into Martin’s.

“Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Tyler says, catching Martin’s lip with his teeth as he smiles. 

They kick out of their shoes and bottoms. Tyler doesn’t have the patience to wait for them to discard shirts, too. He makes unhappy noises when Martin has to go to his bag to find the lube and come back. 

“Now who’s cranky?” 

“Hurry up and put it in,” Tyler says, like the fount of romantic eloquence he has never been. 

“I’m gonna use a condom.” Martin waves the strip, and Tyler bursts into laughter.

“Did you really warn me about covering up?”

“I’m thinking about your interests right now,” Martin says, kneeling on the bed with him again. “Bare means messier, and we’ve got friends to find soon.” 

“ _Fine_ ,” Tyler says dramatically. He takes the lube from Martin. “Teamwork. I’ll do this; you handle that.”

Martin opens the condom foil and rolls it on, stroking his cock while he watches Tyler push two fingers inside himself. He can’t see ever getting tired of this kind of view. Tyler’s cheeks flush, and he closes his eyes to get lost in it a little, shivering when Martin presses a finger to his rim at the same time, teasing. 

It’s too tempting not to push in as well, so he gets some lube onto his own fingers and slides one in along with both of Tyler’s. Martin watches the way he gnaws on his bottom lip while he rides all three fingers, goes gradually more pliant until he says, “Okay. I want,” and exhales, long and deep because Martin’s right there for him. 

Fast, short thrusts carry them through it. One of Tyler’s legs rests on Martin’s shoulder, letting him bend in close enough that their foreheads touch, both panting as Martin fucks in sharply. 

Tyler curses the whole time, the airy sound puffing across Martin’s mouth between quick kisses. He gets a hand on his own cock, jerking in counter rhythm. Coming seems to catch Tyler almost by surprise, tipping him over when Martin’s pulling back, and then making him cry out as Martin bottoms out again.

Martin doesn’t keep pushing. Instead he pulls out until only the head of his cock holds Tyler open, stroking himself the rest of the way as Tyler starts to settle. When he comes, it’s not quite the indulgent, giddy release he feels when they go bare, but it’s close -- a good sort of similar. 

Foresight pays off. Martin ties off the condom, trashes it, and then they use a hand towel from the bathroom to wipe up lube. 

Done and done. They both feel good, and Tyler doesn’t have to worry about pulling pants back on too soon.

They learned that one the weird way. 

Tyler wants to make out for a few minutes like that, half-naked and come stupid. He keeps reaching down to squeeze Martin’s ass. It probably shouldn’t strike Martin as sweet, but oh well.

“I’m still hungry,” Martin says eventually. Sex did away with what small benefits he got from his snack.

Tyler sighs, says, “Alright,” but keeps kissing Martin for a full minute before either makes a move. 

;;

This is Martin’s third time in Vegas with teammates, and he adores the city every single time. He likes the energy, the music, and the dancing, even though his friends tend to use that as a way to make fun of him in public. When they finished preseason here in October, all the guys with longtime girlfriends kept directing curious, flirty women his way. Martin danced with a lot of girls in October, Tyler laughing across from him as he watched.

The team finding out that Martin isn’t single anymore -- and that Tyler and Taylore aren’t on again-off again, just off -- has been a gradual sea change. They mostly kept it to themselves through the end of last season. It was new, and then there were the playoffs, and if anyone suspected all the hooking up they were doing in Vegas in June, they didn’t ask. Muzz and Pears already knew, but none of the other guys mentioned it.

That’s changed now. No one gets a revolving door of introductions to pretty women started for Martin when they’re in Hakkasan that night. 

Tyler isn’t that into dancing, so Martin does spend some time with a couple different girls, but that only lasts until he gets tired. When he gets back to the area where the guys are, Tyler hooks his chin over Martin’s shoulder, and Martin’s content with staying put after that.

“You have lipstick on your cheek,” Tyler says, rubbing fingers against Martin’s face.

“One of them thanked me,” Martin says. “She said I was sweet.”

Tyler sneaks a kiss slightly below where he’d touched. “Don’t I know it.” 

“You guys aren’t tired already, are you?” Noly asks. He swats at Martin’s knee. “We were gonna get shots.” 

“We’re in,” Tyler says. “We’re still wide awake.”

They don’t leave Hakkasan until two in the morning. The season was a disappointment, but it’s nice to spend time with most of the guys who’ve become really important to him over the last couple years. 

Marty and Greener leave at the same time he and Tyler do. Greener claps a hand on Martin’s arm and says, “Don’t forget: pool tomorrow.”

“The lazy river, my favorite place,” Tyler says wistfully. 

Greener laughs, and Marty says, “Ty, you should come to Texas. Me and some buddies have a tradition every summer: beer, inner tubes, and floating down a real river.”

“I would spend my whole three months off like that.” Tyler turns to Martin. “Let’s go do that this summer.”

“Sounds fun,” Martin says, still feeling way too pleased at the easy way Tyler includes him.

Marty says, “Yeah, I’ll let you know when we nail down more specific dates. Probably in July. Keep that in mind.”

“We’re going to find some food,” Greener says and points to Martin and Tyler. “You want to come, or are you turning in?”

Martin defers to Tyler. “Up for it?”

“I’m tired,” Tyler says. 

“Alright, we’ll catch you later. You’re good to get back, right?” Greener asks.

“Yeah, we’re golden,” Martin says, and they wave as they part. He and Tyler are drunk, but they’re not falling down with it. They lean into one another and make their way through the MGM floor to find the elevators.

Tyler ends up trailing just behind Martin by the time they reach them, holding onto his sides. He drapes his arms over Martin’s shoulders as they wait, and says, “Remember last year?” 

With arms around him, it’s pretty easy to tell what he means. “I’m not giving you another piggyback ride.” 

“Why? You’re so mean to me,” Tyler says, pressing his laugher to Martin’s spine. 

Martin turns in his arms and says, “I bet I can make up for it another way.”

“Ooh, tell me more.”

Unfortunately, a ding signaling the elevator’s arrival prevents that. A couple other people hop on with them at the last second, but they only go up a few floors, and once they leave Tyler slides in to hug Martin from the front. He’s humming something Martin doesn’t recognize, and then his head snaps up.

“Shit, then we got married. Maybe in this same elevator!” 

Fuck, that’s right. Martin forgot. Alcohol has made some pretty interesting things come out of Martin’s mouth in the last year or so, it seems. 

“I woke up and my finger was blue from those champagne bottle wires we used,” Martin says. 

Tyler’s laugh is throaty. “Oh, that’s right. Let’s not do that this time. We have to find ring pops or something in the future.” 

“Consider it noted for when we renew our vows.” 

Martin nudges him out when the elevator opens on their floor. Tyler backs away but takes Martin’s hand. They stroll down the long hall together like that, Martin running last year’s play ceremony through his mind. Winning the Stanley Cup sure encourages a lot of impulsive celebration.

They have sex again again before bed, going for a round that’s much more languid. Tyler gets Martin on his knees, thrusting in so, so slow. The curtains are still raised enough that Martin can see both their reflections and some of the lights on the strip, and he feels peaceful in a way that only makes sense to someone who’s had a decent amount of tequila. 

Tyler pulls out before he comes, striping Martin’s back with it. Martin flips over and lies down when they’re both finished, letting Tyler fall on top of him. He curls an arm around Tyler’s shoulder and kisses his face.

“Officially the sex bed,” Tyler says.

“Gotta remember to leave a good tip for housekeeping.”

“Always do.” Tyler rolls away. “I’m going for the mini-bar candy. What do you want? The Twix?” 

“You know me.” It’s Martin’s favorite. Tyler tosses it to him and brings back a Milky Way and Kit Kat, splitting the goods as has become hotel post-sex tradition. 

;;

The plan is to have breakfast, hit the lazy river, have lunch, and then go to Wet Republic. Tyler bails on Wet Republic in favor of a midday nap, so Martin kisses him and meets the others downstairs on his own. 

The plan hits a significant speed bump when Stolly gets arrested. 

“Speed bump might be a bad word choice when our boy just got caught with molly on him, but I’m not judging you,” Kinger says.

“Shut up,” Martin says, and they laugh because they don’t know what else to do yet. 

Greener’s still talking to one of the cops. Two just escorted Stolly out of the building, and Martin keeps hanging around to hear what’s happening next. When Greener and the cop part ways, Martin sits straighter, alert.

“What’s up?” Kinger asks. 

“I’m about to try to call Erin back to let her know where things are. Alyssa and Paige are going to the station to try to stay updated,” Greener says, already thumbing something into his phone.

“Should we -- is there anything I can do?” Martin asks. He hadn’t even see it all happen. He was already inside with Kinger and Lewie, but he came out when they got wind that something was wrong. 

Greener shakes his head. “No, hang tight. The less we’re all scrambling, bringing attention to it, the better right now.” 

It feels kind of strange, but Martin and Kinger eventually just go back into Wet Republic to find Lewie and others again. He can tell when Tyler’s awake again, because he gets a text that says, “Huh??? What the fuck happened to Stolly?” in response to Martin’s quick hits text version plus a “Call me when you’re up” at the end. 

Martin writes back, “Still at WR. Come down.” 

Tyler eventually shows up in a t-shirt and swim trunks, eying everything skeptically like he’s not sure why everyone’s still partying. He makes his way to their cabana and perches on the edge of the lounger Martin’s claimed. 

“Ty!” Muzz yells and hands him one of the beers from their bucket. 

“How are you guys? I heard you’re down here getting in trouble without me,” Tyler says, opening his bottle and knocking some back. He looks to Martin. “Ohh, you brought a hot friend with you.”

“Hi, Ty,” Martin says. “How was your nap?”

“Nearly amazing. Lacked you, but it was alright,” Tyler says and pinches Martin’s hip. “What’d I miss?” 

He fills Tyler in, who listens to the story with his mouth hanging open slightly in disbelief. When Martin confirms that, yeah, Stolly’s probably in jail right now, it drops lower.

“And we can’t do anything?” Tyler asks. 

“No bail yet,” Noly says. 

“Shit.”

“It’s crazy,” Martin says. Tyler’s at a loss for how to proceed just like the rest of them. He finishes his beer, swearing under his breath every few minutes like he’s still thinking about it. Sitting around thinking about it just makes Martin feel bad, so he bumps Tyler’s knee. “Hey. Get in the water with me?” 

It’s hard to stress about something he can’t control when they’re out in the sun with other people, basking in the revelry. Being half covered in water also makes Tyler less shy about dancing somehow, even though they’re in broad daylight instead of a dark room. 

They drinks beers and groove, taking turns dipping under entirely when the sunlight gets to be too much on their shoulders. As the light begins to fade, Tyler says, “Dinner?”

Martin clasps his hand around Tyler’s wrist loosely and follows him through the crowd, out of the club.

They take a detour back to their room before seeking food. Rinsing off feels imperative. More people are around and in need of the elevator on the way up this time, but Martin still thinks about their conversation last night, about last year, and pretending to make Tyler his husband.

He ducks in close and whispers, “I do,” just to make Tyler laugh. It works. 

A cool shower feels fantastic after roasting down in the pool. They don’t linger there, just getting rid of chlorine. Stepping out onto the tile, they help each other dry off. Tyler sighs happily as Martin gets to his hair, working the towel over it. His eyes flutter shut, and Martin takes the opportunity to admire his face.

Tyler opening his eyes again doesn’t really deter Martin at all. Instead, they just watch each other, the suggestion of a smile playing across Tyler’s mouth. It becomes almost unnerving with how pale Tyler’s eyes are, the light in the bathroom hitting them in a way that washes the color out more. 

“We should watch a horror movie tonight,” Martin says at the same time Tyler says, “I would’ve really married you that night.” 

“What?” Martin says.

Tyler sort of bounces on his toes once. “Oh, we still haven’t watched Housebound. Want to do that one?” 

“Sure,” Martin says and shakes his head. “Now, wait, what did you say?”

The blush creeps into Tyler’s cheeks quickly. “Last year. If you’d asked me for real, I remember thinking I would’ve done it.” 

That bowls Martin over. He loses track of his task, the towel limp in his hands and draped over Tyler’s hair like a hood. The disbelief pushes a strange laugh from him. He says, “That wasn’t even the night we tried ecstasy.”

“I _know_ ,” Tyler says and laughs, too. “But I was so happy, you know? A week of partying with the Cup was awesome, but then doing it with you was -- I don’t know. Everything was good.”

Martin can relate. They couldn’t stop getting their hands on each other that week, trying to savor every second. 

He says, “I get it.”

“I think that’s part of why this season feels so weird. I think I was hoping to relive that,” Tyler says. “Like we could do whatever. No matter what we did, it would’ve been the right move.”

Martin nods and can’t help craning in to kiss him. Tyler makes a delicious soft sound, something worth chasing. Loving Tyler is overwhelming. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels like constant waves pushing him to barrel forward with every impulse, and it breaks Martin open any time he realizes he’s not alone.

“I would have, too,” he admits, stroking the backs of his fingers along Tyler’s throat, fitting his hand in the curve between neck and shoulder. 

“Yeah?” Tyler’s expression brightens. “It almost makes us lucky that we couldn’t have if we wanted to yet. Not in Vegas.”

“Made us look smarter than we were,” Martin agrees. Accidentally responsible.

Tyler presses his mouth to Martin’s cheek. He stays there for a minute, letting their faces brush. They’re the only two people in the room, but he doesn’t speak louder than a whisper when he asks, “What about now?”

Well. He’s got a point there.

Martin rears his head back enough to see Tyler's eyes again. He looks nervous. Martin cups his face, caught in a silent stretch of breathing together.

Swallowing first, Martin says, “Are you seriously proposing to me?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Tyler says, “Um. Don’t know. I guess it depends on what you say.” 

If Tyler needs Martin to be the rational party here, he might be disappointed. They missed the playoffs, they still don’t have new contracts yet, they still need to figure out what to do with their things before flying across the world, one of their good friends got arrested today, and in a few seconds, Martin’s going to be engaged. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I still want to. Maybe not here, but --”

“No, right, I was thinking we could plan it. After Worlds, or --”

“-- but I would.”

The cheesy grin that consumes Tyler’s face slams Martin’s composure hard, punches right through it. Tyler says, “Hey, Martin, wanna marry me?”

“Yes, actually, I really do,” he says, and the hug Tyler gives him is so tight that Martin gasps. He follows up with a kiss, nipping at Martin’s lips and licking deeper, towels pooling at their feet on the floor.

Dinner gets delayed. 

;;

Martin’s kept secrets before. That isn’t so new. Having one that makes him need to lower his head to tuck away a grin every time he thinks about it -- that’s unfamiliar territory. They don’t have rings, only a promise, and yet Martin can’t stop looking at Tyler’s hands throughout the next couple days in Vegas either. 

He takes the window seat on the flight back to Los Angeles and blatantly reaches for Tyler’s left hand, touching his ring finger. He rubs the skin there lightly, and Tyler side-eyes him, amused. 

“Something on your mind?” he asks, full of faux-innocence. 

Martin says, “What’s your ring size?” 

“Oh, man, I honestly know this, but only because of the rings we got last year,” Tyler says. Martin laughs, tempted to kiss Tyler’s face, but the plane is packed. He doesn’t feel like worrying about prying eyes. 

“Let’s go get some this week.”

“Yeah? Are you sure?” Tyler asks.

Martin says, “Why not?” 

They have about a week left before they have to fly out for Worlds. It doesn’t take that many days to pack. Besides, Martin wants the small weight of it, wants to ground their choice in something tangible, that he can marvel at whenever it hits him all over again.

“Okay,” Tyler says. 

An eagerness to show off huge hints to their secret feels natural in Vegas and on the way back. When they get to the house, Pears’ got all of his stuff mostly moved to storage or packed for shipping. He’s putting together a sandwich when they walk in and says, “Heeey, look who made it. How was The Strip?”

Instinct wants Martin to lead with the fact that he loves Tyler. Martin couldn’t suck it up and ask if Tyler might want to move in with him, but Tyler went out a limb to ask if Martin had ever thought about being his husband, and now Martin can’t stop smiling at everyone and everything, because it feels like they’re getting away with something.

“Well, the good news is _we_ didn’t get arrested,” Tyler says, walking over to the counter and leaning against it. 

Pears tosses his head back when he laughs. He says, “You’re such an asshole. What the fuck happened there anyway?”

Tyler reaches for a tomato slice and dodges Pears’ attempt to knock his hand away. Popping it in his mouth, Tyler says, “I slept through it. Joner knows more.” He goes for more of Pears’ sandwich ingredients but gets blocked this time and pouts. “Make me one.”

“Make your own.” 

“But you make them with love,” Tyler says, and Pears gives Tyler a face-wash, reminding Tyler that he’s just been touching lunchmeat. 

Martin and Tyler hang out long enough to gossip and snack, stretching their legs. When Tyler yawns, Martin pats his thigh and asks if he’s ready to go drop his stuff at Marty’s. 

“Mhm, okay. Let’s do it,” Tyler says. 

In the car, Martin says, “It’s gonna be weird not telling Pears.”

Tyler hums softly, says, “I know. We can tell him and Marty now, I guess. Since they’re around.” 

They could. There’s no real reason they aren’t telling their teammates, except that everybody’s splitting up for the offseason and now there are other pressing organizational things happening. Waiting for the dust to settle on the season seems better. They can have it for themselves and let other people in after they’ve told their families. 

“No, let’s wait, like we were thinking,” Martin says. “Do all of it after Worlds.”

“Alright. I’m still okay with that.”

Tyler kisses him sweetly when they park outside of Marty’s house. It makes Martin feel like they’re in some teenage date movie for a moment, buzzing from how much he likes this boy and already anticipating when he’ll get to see him again. The biggest difference between that and reality is that Martin sees Tyler all the time. It still doesn’t help assuage the yearning. 

Tyler rests his head on Martin’s shoulder for a second and says, “I love you.”

That makes Martin feel incredibly lucky. He sighs. “You, too. Every day.”

“All day,” Tyler says back and pushes his door open. “Bye, babe.”

“Tell Molly I say hi if she’s there.”

;;

Pears flies home in time for Martin’s brother and sister to get into town. They crash in the two other bedrooms, and the first few days of their visit turn into sight-seeing. Martin tags along for the first day but agrees to let them take his car on the day after when Tyler sends him a text that says, “HELP ME” and includes a selfie featuring him being attacked by Brownie’s sons.

“If you drop me at Brownie’s, then you can get on the expressway a few minutes from there,” Martin says. 

Brownie and Nicole wanted to make parents-only plans for the day, and Tyler has apparently overestimated how much work babysitting four kids really takes. He all but yanks Martin inside when he rings the doorbell. 

“It’s like they never run out of energy.” He looks horrified. 

Martin says, “This is what you get for bragging about how great an uncle you are.”

“With my niece and nephew I at least know what movies to turn on to make them shut up for a couple hours.”

Baby Mackenzie’s easy to handle. All Martin and Tyler have to do is take turns carrying her around the house to keep an eye on her, but the three boys are all over the place. It isn’t until an hour or so after dinner -- “Pizza, but not delivery. Digiorno,” Tyler says and laughs at his own joke -- that the boys start to wind down enough to get ready for bed. 

Once everyone’s asleep, they crash land on the couch in the living room. Martin crawls between Tyler’s legs, using his stomach as a pillow. He says, “How do they do this every day?”

“They’re superhuman. They have to be. Nicole especially.” Tyler’s yawning as they speak. “I think about that with my sisters, too. I love their kids, my nephew and niece, but I only have to entertain them when I’m home.”

“At least your two sisters have only one each.”

“Yeah, I probably couldn’t do four,” Tyler says, scratching at Martin’s hair idly.

“You do want kids, though?” They’ve never really broached the subject, Martin realizes.

“Mhm.” There’s no hesitation from Tyler at all.

“You said that fast.”

“What? I know I do,” Tyler says.

Martin says, “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t expect you to have thought about it before.” 

“It’s not like I’ve got names picked out. Some stuff I just know and stick with it,” Tyler says. “I knew I wanted to aim to go pro at like five. I know I want kids. I just know. Not _soon_ , but you know, someday.”

“I think so, too. For me. Eventually,” Martin says. “Maybe a couple.”

“Not four.”

“Not a goddamn chance.”

They share tired laughter, Martin shifting up so he’s head’s a little higher against Tyler’s body. When he settles, he can hear Tyler’s heartbeat and sort of feel the vibrations of Tyler saying, “Wow, remember when we used to fuck all the time instead of babysit?”

“The thrill is gone,” Martin says, but he pushes upright and plants his hands on either side of Tyler. He glances around the room. “Then again, we are alone right now.”

Tyler pretends to gasp. “We might get caught. What would people think?”

At first, Martin doesn’t think they’ll get much further than making out on Brownie’s couch, but Martin starts to like risking Tyler’s filthy moans. He slides down on the cushions, getting Tyler’s pants undone, and spares one glance to make sure all blinds are shut and no sounds are drifting down from upstairs before he licks the head of Tyler’s cock. 

He sucks Tyler off exactly the way he’s learned Tyler loves, less bobbing and more emphasis on suction. He likes it even after he’s come, the sensation so heightened that Tyler’s fingernails dig into Martin’s shoulder hard enough to sting. Martin swallows anyway, only relenting when Tyler pants, “Please, please,” and starts working his hips back like there’s anywhere to go.

He kisses the shaft of Tyler’s spent cock once, a goodbye-for-now, and then wipes the corners of his mouth. Tyler gently gets his pants done up again, at the same time shifting to allow Martin prime cuddle positioning.

“Is that what you missed?” Martin asks, squashed between Tyler and couch back. He puts an arm around Tyler’s middle. 

“Fuck,” Tyler says -- is all he seems to be able to manage. 

“Awesome.”

Tyler flips around and presses his mouth to Martin’s, kissing him and kissing him. Martin fists a hand in the back of Tyler’s shirt and holds on until Tyler finds what he needs. 

When he finally pauses, he says, “I don’t really miss only hooking up.”

Martin doesn’t know what stupid face he makes at that, but he can feel everything inside him warm. He presses his fingers into Tyler’s back, just beside his spine, like the pressure will put more weight behind him saying, “I know that.”

“It’s a lot better not hoping for wins so I have a reason to come see you.”

Well, it’s not like Martin’s going to disagree with him. Constantly insisting to himself that his fascination with Tyler was all about sex had turned out to be exhausting on top of futile. More than a year in, he’s never been sorry they gave up that ghost.

“Look, I know I give good head, but I don’t think that’s the reason you asked to marry me,” Martin says.

“Uh, you’re underestimating those blowjobs,” Tyler says and yelps when Martin smacks his ass. “It’s a compliment!”

They waste the rest of the evening tangled in each other, talking until they both fall asleep. The clock on the Blu-ray player says it’s after midnight when Brownie wakes Martin later.

“Sorry, I was trying to throw a blanket over you,” he says. 

“Oh, hey. No, don’t worry about it. I can drive us to my house,” Martin murmurs, blinking to try to clear his head. 

“Just use the guest room.” Brownie gestures down the hall. “You guys look like they wrecked you.”

“I’m only here because he wanted backup.”

Brownie rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Thank you for watching them.”

“No problem. It was fun,” Martin says and touches Tyler carefully to wake him. “Ty, let’s go to bed.” 

It takes some coaxing, but Martin convinces Tyler to rise. Or, he convinces him to lean on Martin and force him to do all the work to get down the hall.

“You got him?” Brownie asks.

“We’re fine. He’s doing this because he can get away with it,” Martin says. 

“Alright. Night, Joner. Thanks again.”

“Night,” Martin says, inching his way down the hall with Tyler. He’s happy to dump him on the bed when they make it into the room, climbing in after him as soon as Tyler sleepily reaches out.

;;

When the sun’s up, they ride back from Brownie’s with enough time to shower and consume essential caffeine before getting ready to drive to Anaheim with Martin’s siblings. He hasn’t had time to time to go to Disneyland until now, so Tyler rides down with them and they kill a whole day in the park. 

The trip results in a wealth of silly pictures that make Martin glad Tyler’s Instagram is locked. That doesn’t stop their teammates from chirping them all, but Martin’s used to it from them.

“Ty, what the hell is your face doing in this one?” Jocelyn asks, turning her phone around for him to see. 

He smiles and then squints at the screen, saying, “Wait, look at Lewie’s comment. Low blow.” 

Jordan leans in, too, the three of them talking around Martin while he watches the road, maneuvering through traffic. Jordan and Jocelyn laugh, and Tyler calls them haters, leans forward from the back seat and raises the radio volume. 

“Hey, do you still have a seat belt on?” Martin asks. 

“Of course, Martin.” 

“No, you don’t. Get back there.”

Tyler darts in to kiss his cheek. Martin can’t turn around, but he angles his head to the right so that Tyler catches part of his mouth on the second try. He makes good on sliding back to his seat fully, and then asks, “Happy?” after the very audible click of his seat belt. 

“Ecstatic,” Martin says. 

It’s nice. Martin’s three favorite people are all with him, and the traffic on the 5 isn’t even terrible as they ride back into LA. The combination of good things makes for a great way to say goodbye to Southern California for a while. 

They get down to business after that. Martin and Tyler pack up and finalize their flight plans for heading to Europe. Tyler decides to move all his stuff not going with him to the World Championships into storage. Jordan and Jocelyn agree to look after Bruno on the promise that dinners are on Martin and Tyler when they get to Vancouver mid-summer. 

“Easiest deal I ever made,” Tyler says, shaking on it. He hugs both of them tightly before he dips out for the night.

“He can stay here, you know,” Jocelyn says. They’ve been left standing around the living room, holding beers among a mix of boxes and yet-to-be sorted items. “We get that you’re dating. We’re won’t embarrass you two just because you’re our little brother.”

Martin says, “No, I think he has a few more things that he and Marty are planning to take to storage in the morning. Then he’ll bring Bruno.”

Jocelyn says, “As long as he knows you guys don’t have to stop being yourselves around us. Does he stay here a lot usually?”

“Depends on how busy we are,” Martin says. “But often.”

“Do you think you’ll get a place together in the fall?”

Martin’s… still not sure. He sits down on the couch, considering. Pears’ girlfriend finishes school soon. Martin doesn’t know if she’s planning to come to LA with him in September, but he knows they’ve tossed around the idea. Living with Tyler also seems like a pretty obvious extension of getting married at some point, but they just haven’t talked about it all yet.

He says, “I hope so.”

“Look at you, getting all serious,” Jordan says and comes over to push at Martin’s shoulder. “I’m telling mom and dad.”

“I’m 25 years old. It’s not even surprising at this point,” Martin says.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Jordan stretches out on the couch. He rests his bottle against his stomach and keeps prodding at Martin’s leg with his foot. Martin flicks at his toes, and Jordan’s hiss eventually dissolves into triumphant laughter. 

Jocelyn says, “If you engage, you know he doesn’t stop.”

Martin glares at him. Jordan’s vicious smile is nothing but bright white teeth until he says, “Oh, come on! Cool out. I’m merely pointing out the obvious. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s not.” Martin doesn’t have to be reasonable about this. Jordan’s eyebrows shoot up, skepticism evident. 

The minutes of sizing one another up, trying to get the other to concede first stretch on. Just when it seems like they’re going to call it a stalemate, Jordan empties his beer and says, “I’m only saying. It’s nice that he makes you that happy. Serious happy. With hockey, with your boy. All of it. It looks good on you.”

The words don’t sound like they should make sense together, but Martin understands. He rolls them around in his head. It fits. Serious happy. He’d talked to his family a lot a couple years back, unsure if the Kings would re-sign him, if he should start thinking about trying to move on to another franchise. He went through a break-up in the middle of it, just a whole summer packed with uncertainty. 

Now he’s back to waiting for a contract, but it all feels less frustrating and bogged down by the unknown. He’s won the Cup once, has a team that cares about him, and he’s awed by how good it feels to have a partner-in-crime in Tyler every day. He didn’t see Tyler coming, but he’s spent the last year and a half excited about trying to keep up with him. 

“Thanks,” Martin says. He can meet Jordan halfway. 

;;

Tyler brings coffee and donuts to everyone when he gets there in the morning. He also has his hands full trying to hold on to Bruno’s carrier, so Martin kisses him hello and takes the tray of hot liquid.

“Mmm, this smells good,” Jocelyn says. 

“It was the least I could do,” Tyler says. He passes over the bag of donuts next. “I appreciate you guys taking Bruno for me. He’s really calm about being around new people, so I don’t think he’ll give you a problem.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got it. Glad to help.”

Tyler lets Bruno out of his carrier, giving him one last chance to run around before being cooped up for travel.

After handing out the coffees, Martin comes back to Tyler to offer him a sip from his cup. Tyler takes it and Martin asks, “How’s your morning been?”

“I’ve been up for _so many_ hours already,” he says and frowns. 

“Aw, poor Ty. It’s okay, all the hard work is almost done,” Martin says, pulling him into a loose hug. Tyler melts into it. Jordan and Jocelyn both have the same look on their faces. Martin recognizes it. His two siblings barely holding back whatever chirps they’re thinking about. He flips them off over Tyler’s shoulder, and they blow kisses at him.

An hour later, Jordan, Jocelyn, and Bruno are all packed and ready to go. Martin has to ship a couple more boxes before he leaves, but otherwise he’s set to fly to Europe for a month. They say all their goodbyes at the house, including Tyler kissing Bruno’s head about thirty times in a row. 

The drop-off at LAX is quick because of it. Martin and Tyler stop off for food nearby, nudging at each other’s feet under the table. 

“See? All your work for the day is handled, and it’s not even lunch menu time,” Martin says. 

“I think I’ve earned a pretty huge nap,” Tyler says, resting his head on his arms. “Can I order a pillow instead of an entree?”

Martin squeezes his forearm. “I’m sure that’s listed under the sides.” 

Sitting upright again, Tyler says, “No -- no, I’m not that tired yet. I feel like I should take advantage of having so much day left.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I have no clue.” Tyler flips through the menu slowly, mouth twisting. “Something fun.”

“Hmm.” Martin thinks it over as Tyler taps his fingers against the table in some erratic rhythm. He watches the movement, hypnotized, and then says, “Want to get married?”

Tyler’s very clearly shocked. He says, “We’re supposed to be waiting!” 

“We can apply for the license now,” Martin suggests. The courthouse should still be open. He starts looking up the nearest one on his phone to check and reads off the hours of operation to Tyler. 

“How long do we have to bring it back after we apply?” Tyler asks.

Martin scrolls through the government website. “90 days.”

“A late June wedding?”

That sounds nice to Martin. He says, “So…”

Tyler turns his head and covers his mouth with his hand, but Martin can tell he’s smiling. Eventually he flattens it against the table with a soft thwap. “Alright, let’s go. You’re still driving.”

;;

The day that Martin goes to get married to Tyler -- on the path to married, one step above affianced and one step below vow exchanging -- they hit a Del Taco drive-thru first. They’re in the courthouse for half an hour or so, starting to go through the motions. It all goes how he imagined until the clerk reminds them that they have to get married in California. 

“Are we coming back here before going to Vancouver?” Tyler asks. 

They hadn’t really planned on it. That complicates things. 

“And if you want the confidential license, don’t forget to list where you’re living together and how long you’ve been there,” she adds. 

“We have to already be living together for the private one,” Martin confirms.

“That’s correct.”

“Timeout,” Martin says, and he and Tyler take a minute to go over all of that again. “Rain check?”

They probably should have done at least the minimum amount of preparation before coming in today.

Tyler works his mouth, making random faces as he thinks about it. “I guess so. Let’s go to the movies or something.”

So much for snap decisions. 

Martin’s disappointed as they get back into his car. Tyler agrees, but says, “It’s okay. My mom would flip if she didn’t get to be part of every single step anyway.” 

“She needs her photos.”

“What is she going to spam all my cousins with if she’s not there to take pictures?” Tyler deadpans. He taps at his phone twice and says, “Oh, that’s right, this says ‘Furious 7’ is out. Let’s see that.”

They find a candy store and fill bags with chocolate, sour tape, jawbreakers and more. The movie time leaves them hanging around, sitting in the car outside of the theater for half an hour, stuffing their faces with snacks. Partway through his bag, Tyler realizes he can get gummy bears to stick to his incisors if he presses hard enough. Martin gets to laugh at Candy Dracula for a good few minutes, until impatience overcomes Tyler and he eats his chewy fangs.

Somehow, Martin can’t get enough of this nerd. 

He thinks about the late June wedding Tyler mentioned. They could do something small, Martin thinks. It’s going to be enough of a hassle getting one of their families to the opposite coast. Martin’s biased toward Vancouver, but in all fairness, his patio and backyard would probably be great for a reception. He wants the chance to introduce more people to his new home.

Maybe his and Tyler’s home. 

Live hopefully, Martin thinks.

While Tyler tries to decide between sour tape or Lemonheads, Martin picks an apple ring from his own bag and says, “Hey.”

“Hm?”

Tyler doesn’t lift his gaze until Martin touches him. He picks up Tyler’s left hand and works the apple candy over his ring finger. 

“I was thinking back there,” Martin starts and clears his throat. “Ty. I was wondering. Do you want to move in with me?” 

Tyler wiggles his fingers and smiles, a little dumbstruck. Martin feels like he’s about to come apart, he’s so anxious about Tyler not answering right away. Finally, he says, “It’s hard, isn’t it? Asking someone big questions?”

“It really freaking is, shit,” Martin says, exhaling in a rush. Tyler looks giddy. “You’re such a dick. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“It’s been seconds.”

“I’ve wanted to ask you that since December, so if you--”

“Why didn’t you?” Tyler tilts his head as he interrupts.

“It seemed, uh,” Martin says. Fast? Risky? Impulsive? “I wussed out. Essentially.”

Tyler takes a bite out of his candy ring and hums. “Lame. You should’ve asked.”

“You might’ve said no.”

“I’m at your house all the time,” Tyler reminds him, and then drags the whole apple ring off his finger, chewing. “Damn, I should’ve gotten some of these. I forgot that I love them.” 

“Tyler, answer my question. Do you want to move in?”

“Where? Here? Or Vancouver?”

“Ty.”

“Yes! Yes, fucking duh. Of course I want to live with you,” Tyler says. “I want to live with you and get married and someday chase around more than one but less than four kids, yes, Martin. Hell. Fucking. Yes.” 

Martin pulls him in, catching Tyler’s mouth and tasting the remnants of sweet-sour sugar. There are still traces of it on Tyler’s hand when Martin laces their fingers, the granules nagging at their skin. He doesn’t care, just tries to get closer.

“You okay?” Tyler asks when he can, gasping softly. 

“No,” Martin says, sliding his other hand into Tyler’s hair. 

There’s nothing about this that should be okay. Being with Tyler makes him feel way too powerful, so capable of anything that promising a long life together in a movie theater parking lot seems effortlessly possible. Yet, every time he tries to tread cautiously, his newest reason for hesitating always gets annihilated as easily as the one before it.

“Tell me about it,” Tyler says, tone commiserating, but he doesn’t really look worried.


End file.
